The Phoenix is a mythical bird with a ridiculously long life-cycle in which, close to the end it builds itself a nest of frankincense and myrrh, cinnamon, and other deliciously tantalizing olfactory stimulating agents that ultimately catches afire, both nest and bird, burning fiercely and reduced to ashes. From the ashes, a new phoenix arises, reborn to complete the cycle again. All accounts indicate that the bird had a most beautiful song. The mythology alludes to immortality as the phoenix arises anew, and in some accounts, the beautiful songbird is able to change into people.
Originating stories came from Egypt, Greece, Arabian countries, and as far east as China and even Japan, each origin encapsulating an appropriate variation of the bird. In Egypt, Phoenix represented a majestic being over time, and order, and creation. It was reported that the golden red bird would travel from Arabia to a sanctuary in Egypt. It would travel every 500 years in a rite of renewal and resurrection. The alluring bird would sing songs that would make even the gods stop. It was graceful, beautiful, magical, majestic, representing power and prosperity, and virtue. In China, only an Empress could be adorned with the bird.
Not knowing anything too deeply about the phoenix, in my craving for a new tattoo, I came across a picture of a phoenix.
It stuck with me. The thought of me always coming from some type of failure, some type of loss, from the ashes of being burned, on top, anew, unscathed and just as beautiful as ever, stuck with me.
SOOOOOOOOOOOO... When I saw that Miya Bailey was coming to Houston, I couldn't miss my chance to get him to put himself in me. Seriously. What better person than to embody myself in art form? I scraped together some fundage, and ran straight to him. In typical fashion, relatively reserved, and slightly shy, I sat in the appointment, slightly artist struck... then, he asked, "So what can I do for you today?" I said, "I want a phoenix." It was really quite simple, my desire. All I required is that it was him, that he put his spin on it, that the piece had him creatively all in it.
With the position I'm in right now in life, and my song's cry arising, this piece couldn't be more appropriate for this exact moment in my life.
We sat and shot the shit for a few, as he was filling color tubes with hues of greens, and yellow, and pinks (my favorite), and various shades of blues, and then it was down to business of creating art. He stepped in from the Houston evening, looked at me so pleasantly pleased, said, "I have something perfect for you," told me to stand, took out his markers, and began creating distinctly indistinct lines on my arm. Occasionally stepping back to admire the look and gage his next move, he marked and outlined and smiled and repeated until finally she was created. As I looked down my arm, all I saw were black and red lines and swirls and smudges and stuff. He saw: hell, I don't know what he saw, but eventually, he took out his needle, and began the process of creation.
Over the next few hours, somewhat painlessly, she arose.
Originating stories came from Egypt, Greece, Arabian countries, and as far east as China and even Japan, each origin encapsulating an appropriate variation of the bird. In Egypt, Phoenix represented a majestic being over time, and order, and creation. It was reported that the golden red bird would travel from Arabia to a sanctuary in Egypt. It would travel every 500 years in a rite of renewal and resurrection. The alluring bird would sing songs that would make even the gods stop. It was graceful, beautiful, magical, majestic, representing power and prosperity, and virtue. In China, only an Empress could be adorned with the bird.
Not knowing anything too deeply about the phoenix, in my craving for a new tattoo, I came across a picture of a phoenix.
SOOOOOOOOOOOO... When I saw that Miya Bailey was coming to Houston, I couldn't miss my chance to get him to put himself in me. Seriously. What better person than to embody myself in art form? I scraped together some fundage, and ran straight to him. In typical fashion, relatively reserved, and slightly shy, I sat in the appointment, slightly artist struck... then, he asked, "So what can I do for you today?" I said, "I want a phoenix." It was really quite simple, my desire. All I required is that it was him, that he put his spin on it, that the piece had him creatively all in it.
With the position I'm in right now in life, and my song's cry arising, this piece couldn't be more appropriate for this exact moment in my life.
We sat and shot the shit for a few, as he was filling color tubes with hues of greens, and yellow, and pinks (my favorite), and various shades of blues, and then it was down to business of creating art. He stepped in from the Houston evening, looked at me so pleasantly pleased, said, "I have something perfect for you," told me to stand, took out his markers, and began creating distinctly indistinct lines on my arm. Occasionally stepping back to admire the look and gage his next move, he marked and outlined and smiled and repeated until finally she was created. As I looked down my arm, all I saw were black and red lines and swirls and smudges and stuff. He saw: hell, I don't know what he saw, but eventually, he took out his needle, and began the process of creation.Over the next few hours, somewhat painlessly, she arose.
Everything is not for everybody. But, this, this right here. This right here tattoo is for me. Still feels like I'm dreaming.
thank you Miya Bailey, sir! *big smile*
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